


Love or Responsibility

by makebelieveanything



Series: AFTG Bingo 2020 [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Bingo 2020, Alternate Universe - 1910s, Alternate Universe-Downton Abbey AU, Andrew Aaron Kevin and David are all family, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Suspension Of Disbelief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25064242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makebelieveanything/pseuds/makebelieveanything
Summary: Andrew is the first son of the Earl of Grantham and Nathaniel Hatford is the distant cousin set to inherit the estate.AKA Downton Abbey AU nobody asked for, but I had way too much fun writing.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: AFTG Bingo 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815259
Comments: 3
Kudos: 65
Collections: AFTG Bingo Blackout 2020 - Cupcakes, All For The Game Bingo 2020





	Love or Responsibility

**Author's Note:**

> As part of the AFTG 2020 Bingo card-1910s AU. This is part of the Fluffy Cupcake Club's bingo blackout collab. 
> 
> As always a huge shout out to my beta [justadreamfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justadreamfox/pseuds/justadreamfox) All mistakes are mine, all characters belong to Nora and to Downton Abbey. I own nothing.

The morning of April 15, 1912 began in the same manner as every day prior. The servants having woken long before the family of the house, bustled about lighting the fires, opening the rooms, and drawing the curtains. Below the main floor the kitchen was a hive of activity, the head housekeeper dispersed orders and the kitchen maids rushed to plate breakfast before the footman arrived to whisk it upstairs. If one did not know better, they could have believed the hustle and bustle of the day in normal standard for a house the size of Downton, but looking closer it was hard to imagine that someone had not sensed the news set to arrive that very morning.

It was just as Andrew Minyard finished dressing, his valet smoothing the shoulders of his suit ensuring the crisp gray cloth fell perfectly, when there was a knock on the door. 

The news: the RMS Titanic had sunk. 

It was absurd and wholly unimaginable as the RMS Titanic had been touted to be “unsinkable”, yet four days into the crossing the unfathomable had occurred. As it was succinctly stated by his father, David Minyard, the Earl of Grantham, “Every mountain is unclimbable until someone climbs it, so every ship is unsinkable until it sinks.” 1 As one could believe, breakfast that morning was a somber affair. Casualty lists would not be released for many days, however, the Minyard family, as one of the most prominent families in England, was sure to know a fair number of the names. 

It was not three hours later that Andrew was summoned to the drawing room, his father standing from his writing desk at his entrance, his face a mask of portentous acceptance.

“I’ve received a telegram from our solicitor, it appears your cousin Seth and his son James were on the crossing to New York. It is unlikely they made it off alive,” David advised his son. “Your grandmother Beatrice is on her way here, and the family is going into full mourning, but I wanted to ensure you heard the news from me.” 

Andrew nodded gravely, incapable of voicing the gravity of his feelings on the subject to an extent that would be considered appropriate to his father. His silence, though, was not uncommon, and David nodded once before returning to his desk, no doubt contemplating the effect this news would have on all their futures. 

In order to fully comprehend the gravity of that statement, one must have a thorough understanding of the chain of inheritance for estates such as Downton Abbey. Andrew, although the first son of the current Earl, was not the first in line to inherit the estate and its considerable wealth; that privilege had fallen to David’s first cousin Seth and his son James. Upon their untimely demise, Andrew’s father would be conferring with their solicitor to see who was next in line. Andrew, although unannounced to anyone outside the immediate family, had been betrothed to Seth: a marriage that had been agreed upon more in an attempt to keep the family estate and money in the hands of the current family rather than out of any emotional connection between the two men. Thus Andrew’s response to the matter was - complicated at best. It was supremely difficult to mourn the passing of one’s fiancé when they were of little emotional significance; Andrew in reality felt a measure of relief at the news as it provided the smallest hope that he may, in the coming months, have a say in his own future. 

Those hopes were quickly dashed. It was concluded that the next in line for the estate was Sir Nathaniel Hatford: a distant cousin of the Minyard family. It was decided thereafter, that once the appropriate mourning period had transpired, Sir Nathaniel and his mother Mrs. Mary Hatford, would be invited to stay at Downton. No one in the family, not even the Dowager Countess - Andrew’s grandmother - dared to broach the subject of marriage with Andrew. Having long since resigned himself to the most likely outcome, Andrew had arrived at the conclusion regardless: someone in the family must marry Sir Nathaniel Hatford should they wish to keep even a fraction of their current wealth, status, and normalcy of life.

Andrew’s brothers, Aaron and Kevin, assured him in their own ways that they would back Andrew’s decision on the matter. They agreed, as brothers were known to do, to a pact of sorts. Although they would allow Sir Hatford into their home, they would make it their first priority to convince him - in whatever means necessary - to sign the inheritance of Downton over to the Minyards. They wisely did not mention this plan to their father as David Minyard would never have supported such a brash plan of action. 

Thus it was that in September of 1912, the current family of Grantham and their household, impeccably dressed and well presented, welcomed the arrival of Sir Nathaniel Hatford and his mother Mary Hatford to the hallowed halls of Downton Abbey. Andrew and his brothers bowed appropriately in greeting, shaking Sir Hatford’s hand with more force than perhaps was strictly necessary on Andrew’s part, yet Sir Hatford only smiled, returning the greeting in kind. 

It was that smile which unpredictably caught Andrew’s attention. Although Sir Hatford seemed, in all outward appearance, imbued with the full standard of comportment for a gentleman of his stature, that smile betrayed an important minutiae: a spark of unmannerly rebellion, a carefully hidden delight in the challenge of natural society - or as much as one could assume from a smile and the brief ferocity of a handshake. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Sir Andrew,” Nathaniel said in a steady voice, the light baritone a direct contrast to the striking blue eyes and his admittedly unusual hair: the color of burnished copper.

“I’m sure it is,” Andrew agreed, refusing the polite response of: _and you as well Sir Hatford._

“You must believe quite highly then, in your amiable disposition. Amusing, I must say, as I’ve heard tell of your frank wit, and stunningly handsome countenance, but never of a particularly pleasant temperament. I guess I’ll have to make my own judgements on that matter.” 

It was a brief interaction, a breath of words for Andrew’s ears only, but despite the artfully crafted insult there was no open disdain in the repartee - just that distractingly incorrigible smile - that Andrew was interested to note slipped out of sight as Nathaniel continued down the line of family waiting to magnanimously welcome him to their home.

Dinner that evening was a stately affair, the head cook pulled out all the stops including the main course of roasted duck in a decadent brown sauce. Andrew contemplated causing the “misfortunate accident” of spilling some on Nathaniel’s lap, but thought better of the idea upon first taste, as wasting such finery on a man’s lap would be sorely disappointing. The first opportunity to confront their newest guest presented itself as the gentleman adjourned for their after dinner scotch; it was really no surprise then that Aaron and Kevin took advantage of the moment to corner the unsuspecting Sir Hatford. Andrew watched from his comfortable seat near the fire as they badgered him with questions, presumably attempting to dredge up any skeletons that may have been hidden in the young man’s closet. 

At first Nathaniel’s demeanor remained calm, unperturbed, maybe even slightly amused at the full-on verbal assault; however it did not escape Andrew’s attention when the corners of his mouth tightened instead of lifting, the light behind those bright blue eyes dimmed, his fists clenching and unclenching before he locked them behind his back in a stiff upright posture. The vulnerability in that look was something Andrew was all too familiar with: a rabbit cornered by foxes, a deer in the headlights, a young man used to denying his own dreams as a sacrifice for family. 

Andrew was not conscious of his choice to stand and interrupt their verbal skirmish until it had already occurred, so it was slightly unprecedented when he found himself standing next to Nathaniel in the corner, letting the silence settle around them like a curtain. His brothers had migrated across the room, their heads tilted together in conference, their furtive glances bordering on the wrong side of absolutely obtrusive. Andrew ignored them and Nathaniel alike, sipping the remnants of his scotch in silence, briefly locking eyes with Nathaniel’s conspicuous ones before setting the empty glass on the side table and excusing himself for the evening. 

Andrew Minyard did not forget that evening nor the smile he’d glimpsed upon Sir Nathaniel’s arrival, but it was not for another two months when his father had organized a pheasant hunt for a group of visiting diplomats that Andrew and Nathaniel found themselves in a situation to get better acquainted. The wind was brisk blowing up the plains and the blind they hid behind allowed only a brief respite from the chill; Andrew had a rifle cocked and pressed against his shoulder sighting along the barrel, his patience pristine until the dogs set the pheasants flying for safety only to fall to Andrew’s exceptional aim. Nathaniel humbly declined the rifle offered to him by the valets, choosing to lean against the blind and watch as Andrew sighted down the barrel again, and again. 

“You do not care to participate?” Andrew questioned during a break, an indulgent cigarette hanging from his fingers. 

“I have shot enough guns out of necessity in my lifetime; I no longer have the desire to shoot them for pleasure.” Nathaniel had responded in a fleeting moment of honesty, accepting a cigarette with a nod. 

“Would you prefer to return to the estate, Sir Nathaniel?” Andrew offered out of necessitated manners rather than a genuine desire to return. 

“I would prefer Neil, if you feel comfortable with the informality between the two of us,” Nathaniel responded, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air around him. “I have no quarrel with watching you hunt, there is no need to end your entertainment on my account.”

The two finished the day in that manner, moving occasionally across the plains to a new blind, Neil watching as Andrew shot then joining him in a respite of cigarettes. One would presume the silence that followed their activity to be a lack of enjoyment in the other’s presence, that assumption however, would be dismissing out of hand the simple pleasure one can find in sharing a moment of understanding, a moment of quiet, with another who unquestionably understands that speaking thoughts out loud is not a constant necessity despite the rules demanded by polite society.

After that day on the plains, Neil became a semi-constant presence around the Downton estate, content to spend his time learning the day to day runnings of the estate and its surrounding tenants from Andrew’s father. Andrew knew better than most that the Earl of Grantham was not known for his willingness to accept change, so he was not surprised when Neil’s ideas for future transitions caused arguments between the two men. How those disagreements transformed into Neil and Andrew spending evenings by the fire discussing the potential validity of the suggested transformations was completely unknown to Andrew: unknown, but not entirely discouraged. 

“Sometimes I wonder if you find genuine amusement in offering up the most ludicrous of suggestions simply to get a reaction from my father,” Andrew mused one of those evenings.

“It is a simple pleasure,” Neil agreed, a hint of that fabled smile peeking from the edges of his brandy glass. “I find the insistence on tradition for the sake of tradition alone to be a very tedious mindset. The world is ever changing, why must we refuse to acknowledge that and change with it?” 

“Because we are the English aristocracy. Without the rules of tradition and polite society we would quickly descend into absolute bedlam,” Andrew reminded Neil as he often did on these evenings. 

“Perhaps,” Neil acquiesced. “But, at least that would be entertaining to witness.”

Andrew chuckled and raised his whiskey in agreement, the glasses making a soft clink as they toasted, downed the remainder of the drinks, and retired for the evening - their heavy gazes snagging for longer than was strictly necessary before parting ways at the top of the stairs.

______

The year of 1913 passed in a mirage of drama and amazement for both the upstairs and downstairs families. Aaron, in his standard fashion of blatant disregard for social rules, fell in love with a lady’s maid, attempted to join a socialist rebellion, threatened to run away from home, and eventually convinced the Earl of Grantham - under considerable duress - to accept their union and married the girl. Thus their family gained a new and entirely unique addition to its ranks.

Kevin, intent on disliking Sir Nathaniel despite Andrew’s succinct demand they abandon their original plan of hostility, failed at multiple attempts to frame the man for mistakes and wrong doings around the estate. Andrew and Kevin’s relationship had always been one of slight contention - the two brothers too similar in constitution and too wary of their order in birth to put aside their jealousy for the sake of brotherly friendship. If one looked in on their relationship with no knowledge of their familial bond they’d believe the two to be sworn enemies, yet Andrew knew Kevin’s actions came from a place of love, and perhaps a deeply misguided idea of protection on Andrew’s behalf. 

England as a whole was similarly affected by the tumultuousness of the year: Ireland continued to rotate from a state of active rebellion to one of passive but unending aggression; suffragettes set fire to buildings, organized rallies, and finally succeeded in appointing the first female magistrate; the HMS Queen Elizabeth launched as the Royal Navy’s first oil-fired battleship. Despite this, or maybe because of it, the families of high society continued in the same manner as they had in years past - navigating a chessboard of attempts at advantageous marriages and hiding scandal from the eager eyes of gossiping neighbors. The Minyard family, and Neil along with them, were content to entertain themselves with a barrage of affairs: balls, hunts, horse races, visits to family in the city and along the coast, and the ever present formal dinner parties. 

Thus it was that Andrew stood on the balcony in the crisp winter air after a delectable Christmas dinner had been prepared and served to a host of well known guests, his attention distracted from the view by the young man before him. Neil stood at his side on the balcony, both hands holding Andrew’s, his eyes glowing in the dim warmth cast by the interior lights, and asked, “Drew, will you do me the great honor of becoming my husband?”

“Neil,” Andrew responded, his name barely a whisper on his lips, “are you serious?” 

“I am,” was his unreserved response. 

“I don’t understand, why now? You’ve never hinted at an interest before, and we’ve barely known each other for a year. Is it not too soon for an engagement to be considered proper?” Andrew inquired, the response a fleeting attempt at allowing himself time to find the true answer to the question.

“I care very little for the expectations of polite society,” Neil rejoined, his wit ever present as always. “I ask you now because I intend to do what is right and honest by my own conscience.” 

“Is that what this is? A proposal born of a sense of duty, of honor?” Andrew presumed if that were the case then he could convince himself that denying the urge to immediately accept Neil’s proposal would be easier. He had no desire to agree to a marriage of necessity again.

“No, it is one born of honesty, friendship, and a love that I believe has grown between us. I would no sooner ask for your hand out of a sense of duty than I would presume to ask your father for your hand without knowing your true feelings on the matter; which I think you well know.” Neil’s response was measured, calm, but the heat in his eyes matched the warmth of his palms still pressed against Andrew’s.

“Andrew, I have known for many months that I am unequivocally and irrevocably in love with _you_ \- not your status, or your connections, or your family’s wealth. I am in love with your beauty, your intelligence, your cunning, your silence, and above all your honesty. So, your response?”

It was a wonder Neil couldn’t hear Andrew’s heartbeats trying to pound their way out of his chest; Andrew was unsure if the heat in his cheeks came from Neil’s words or the chill of the evening air. Andrew finally took a breath and responded, “Neil, you are everything I’ve ever dreamed of and never believed I could have. If you mean what you say, then I am powerless to refuse you.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yes, Neil.” Andrew agreed contentedly, finally pulling the young man in for a brief kiss, internally revelling in the prospect of their future together - a future Andrew could never have imagined upon first hearing of a Sir Nathaniel Hatford that fateful spring of 1912, but a future he was overwhelmingly eager to be a part of.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. All rights for this line go to the writers, owners, and producers of Downton Abbey-direct quote from season 1 episode 1.
> 
> Talk to me on tumblr at [makebelieveanything](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/makebelieveanything)


End file.
